Senior Citizens
by Funky Chicken
Summary: Buffy is eighty-some years old, dying in a hospital. She and Spike are still together, much to the disapproval of the hospital staff. Buffy and Spike overcome it, but know they can't avoid Buffy's death. (Sorry, my summary sucks! Please review!)
1. Ugh, it's disgusting

"See, love? I always told you things could work out" Spike smiled sweetly. His hand held Buffy's delicately, afraid to break the elderly woman should he grip too firmly. Although it pained him to see her in this condition, Spike thought she was as beautiful as ever. 

Buffy, now well into her eighties, was laying in a hospital bed at Sunnydale Memorial Hospital. Neither she, nor Spike, had ever been able to figure out how she had lived so long, being a Slayer and all. It had to be some kind of record, and definitely a miracle. 

"I know, Spike" came a chuckling answer, "I know…" Buffy smiled softly, the green emeralds that were her eyes glancing over every feature on his still youthful form. Her thumb gently stroked the back of his hand, glad that he was here with her. 

"I love you…" although the words had become a simple phrase for him to speak, they never dulled in meaning. Buffy must have heard them conjured from Spike's lips thousands upon thousands of times now, yet they always made her heart glow. 

"I love you" she smiled again, her eyes growing even brighter than they already were. Buffy had always been his sunlight amidst a world of darkness, even if she belonged in the shadows. 

Spike gave a gentle smile. He had been doing that more often. Buffy had once told him she always wished he smiled more. Now, at the plateau of her lifetime, Spike had finally decided to offer her the treat beheld in the simple curving of his lips. 

Nudging his chair closer to the bed, closer to where Buffy's face leaned against her pillow, Spike leaned in. His lips grasped her aged ones in his always-cool embrace. The vertebrae that were his fingers laced themselves in Buffy's hair, though not nearly as harshly as he would have long ago. Delicately, their tongues began to connect, the intensity of their relationship never dying with Buffy's youth. 

Buffy could feel her heart beginning to thrum against her chest, an experience Spike never took for granted. She grasped for the nape of his neck, playing with the short hairs lining the base of his skull, her other hand still holding Spike's, their fingers playing with each other in what was a somewhat intimate manner. 

An orderly nurse walked into the room, her back going stiff the moment she spied the vampire and his lover enfolded in a mouth-to-mouth embrace. Clearing her throat rather loudly, Spike and Buffy both glanced at her, and broke off the kiss, tenderly chuckling to themselves. 

This woman, along with every other doctor, nurse, secretary, and patient in the hospital were disgusted by what they didn't understand. To them, Spike and Buffy being together was some perverse relationship. They thought that perhaps the blonde-haired man was using the senior citizen for some cash jackpot. There was no way that love could be a component in their pairing. 

_"Let them think whatever they want, Buffy…"_ Spike had told the Slayer. _"We both know the truth, and that has always been good enough for us"_. Buffy had been crying that day. Her weathered visage was marred by streaks of liquid forming in her eyes, imposed by the fact that she had overheard people speaking about her and Spike. 

The vampire had come in that evening as he always did, never missing even a moment of the hours they could spend together after nightfall. Walking into the room, he had been exposed to the sight of Buffy slightly crumpled together, her hands in her face. 

Tears had never tasted so sweet when Spike had begun kissing them away, once again to the disapproval of some intruding staff member. It was then that Spike had comforted Buffy, stuffing himself beside her in the bed, his arms embracing her in a protective nature. 

From that day on, the Slayer and her vampire lover had taken the disapproval of the hospital staff as more of a blessing, a compliment even. It gave their relationship's uniqueness a steroid-like boost, something they both appreciated. Tonight, being caught in each other's arms yet again, was no exception to the rule. 

"Your medication, m'am" the nurse strode to Buffy's bedside, opposite that which Spike was seated at. Her voice sounded slightly annoyed, and Spike simply watched the woman in silence, his eyes unable to hold their position for long before sliding back to Buffy. 

The elder Slayer took the nurse's attitude, as well as her medication, with grace. Dropping the pills into her mouth and then downing them with a glass of water, she thanked the nurse as she did every evening. 

Brown eyes remained stiff as Buffy spoke, the woman hardly appreciating what her patient had to say. It seemed that every person in the hospital had lost respect for the woman who had prevented more apocalypses in her lifetime than any of them could even dream of.

_Hell_, Spike thought. _If it weren't for Buffy, you wouldn't even be here_. A smirk dangled across the edges of his lips as the mahogany eyes of Buffy's nurse then dissected Spike. It was as if she had read his mind.

"Thank you, miss. G'night" Spike gave her a little wave before turning back to Buffy as the woman made her way out of the room, her steps brisk and aggravated. "What do you think? Did we just spoil that woman's night?" Spike nodded in the direction of the door as Buffy gave a soft laugh. 

"Don't we always?" Buffy's eyes glowed again, and Spike couldn't help leaning over to place a small peck on her cheek. The touch sent an electric shockwave, one of comfort, guiding its way over Buffy's skin. Shivering slightly, the Slayer simply buried herself in Spike's eyes with a content smile. 

Remaining at Buffy's side, Spike simply remained silent, his gaze always appreciative. Through the contact of her hands, he could feel her pulse beginning to drain in pace, calming slightly, becoming weaker. The motions of her chest weren't nearly as accented as they usually were. 

Spike lowered his gaze for a moment to study the path of Buffy's veins beneath her skin, able to admire the smallest details about her. If given a piece of paper and a blue pen, Spike knew he would have no problem in tracing her hand. Every little crease in her palm, the exact length of every branching vein, Spike would know it all. 

Looking up, another smile crossed over the vampire's lips when he saw that the Slayer had fallen asleep, her eyes closed peacefully. Damn that drowsy medication. Oh well, he had no problem with watching the Slayer sleep. He did it every night, often dozing off on Buffy's lap, waking only moments before dawn. He would plant a kiss on her forehead, nose, and lips, and then dash off to his crypt.

Tonight was going to be no different, Spike knew, as his grip on Buffy's hand never wavered. Just another night of peaceful bliss.


	2. Flashback

Spike was practically nipping at the Slayer's heels he was following her so closely. Buffy was swept with another wave of chills each time the wind threw some of his body temperature against the back of her neck. 

"Slayer, wait up!" Spike called roughly, his throat already raw from arguing with the blonde for a good, powerful ten minutes. "Buffy!" he reached out to her again in a verbal manner, not wanting to infuriate the girl by touching her. "Buffy, love, just hang on a second". 

Upon hearing the four-letter word Buffy had grown to despise, she stopped dead, whipping around on her heel. "How many times do I have to tell you?! Stop. Calling. Me. Love!" her eyes practically staked the vampire with rigid edges as he attempted to stop all forward motion before ploughing into the girl. 

"Just speakin' the truth lov-Slayer" hoping that she wasn't carrying a real stake, Spike refrained from stumbling over the word again.His blue jewels hardly held an ounce of the menace hers did. Of course, Spike was becoming slightly frustrated by Buffy's constant pushing him away, but tonight he felt content enough to handle anything. 

"God! Stop _saying_ that! You _can't_ love, okay? You're a _vampire_. The only thing you can love is a tasty, helpless 'townie' and the 'occasional shag' as you might put it" Buffy was ruthless, though it was hardly a change from her usual attitude toward Spike. She felt this close… _this close_ to staking him. At least, she wished she did. 

The vampire simply stared at her with the 'moon eyes' she loved to hate. "Why do you keep throwing me away like this? What we had back then, what we had _last night_, wasn't _nothing_, Buffy. It wasn't just _shagging_. It was making love. Maybe not for you, too high and mighty to admit it to yourself, but for me" Spike clutched his chest with an open palm, his eyes attempting to throw even a morsel of his emotion into her. "… No matter how violent things could get, for me… it was…divine" Spike almost smiled when he made use of a poet's word, but Buffy's glare kept any sort of humility from rising to the surface. 

The Slayer, though she hardly looked it, was almost in tears. She wanted her beliefs to be the same as Spike's in some ways at least. Part of her wanted to admit that this vampire was someone who she might be able to love… but there were always things holding her back. Too many things that created barriers fifty feet high and ten-feet across, as opaque as the night sky. Now… now would be the perfect time to toss one of those barrier-constructing issues onto the table. 

"You say that now, Spike…" she gave a soft sigh as her voice quieted, suddenly tired of yelling. When he brought up their act of making love the night before, Spike had somehow softened the barriers she was holding up, or at least made them sheets of transparent plastic. "You say that now. But what about three years from now… What about _fifty_ years from now, when I'm not the same girl anymore? Things between us can never be _real_, because unlike _you_, I'm going to get older. I'm not going to look like this forever…" 

What could be called a heart suddenly deflated within the vampire when Buffy finished speaking what he hoped were soul-filled words. This girl, who usually seemed so hard and strong on the exterior, was in fact ripped to shreds on the inside. Perhaps not all of her, but the holes left by her past lovers had never been patched up. On some level, Spike understood that. 

Attempting to manufacture words that would sound just right, Spike sighed during the awkward silence, drilling through his vocabulary in the meantime. "Piffle…" Buffy glanced up, thinking that she had never heard him use that English word before. Spike continued with words she couldn't deny had to have come from the softer portions of his blackened heart. "Buffy, I'm not bloody stupid. I've been undead for over a century; you think I didn't notice that people tend to _age_?" Spike gave a short laugh, though his face was only contorted in its humoured state for a moment.   

"Buffy… I _love_ you" his voice was stronger than the Slayer thought it had ever been. Glad that she hadn't flinched or shot venom at him when he spoke the detested word, Spike took the step toward her that was needed to fill the gap between them. His hands reached up to hold her tenderly by the arms, blue eyes moulding against hers. "And nothing… _nothing_ is going to change that. Not you. Not me- and yes, I've tried to stop loving you. But most of all, definitely not age. I love you Buffy… your body _and_ your mind… that's what infatuation is all about…" Spike smiled softly, and his hand rose to gently caress Buffy's cheek as she leaned into the touch. 

Eyes fluttering slightly, Buffy realised that breathing was becoming somewhat of a challenge to her. Instead of saying something that would surely sound horrendous at a time like this, she simply exposed her emerald jewels to Spike, the ones she knew he adored. "Kiss me…" with the gentlest of whispers, Buffy spoke what had become simple words to form. For Spike, that effortless phrase was neither a request, nor a demand… to him it was a necessity, one he was always willing to fulfill. 

And so he did, letting the Slayer fold herself in his arms, the warm caress of her fingers against the nape of his neck sending shivers down his spine. At some point during the evening, either being knew they would fall into the depths of Spike's crypt. After tonight, it was even possible that Buffy would stay until the morning, and then perhaps they would read the morning newspaper together, and play footsie under the sheets. 


	3. Flowers

Roses, carnations, and tulips were spread before him. Baby's breath whispered in his ear while exotic flowers tempted Spike with their outlandish beauty. The sun had just begun to set, so the vampire knew he was already running late. For some reason, a sudden impulse to buy flowers for his only loved one had sent Spike in search of a Sunnydale business that sold them. 

Standing before a rather large fridge designed to keep the blossoms at full health, Spike was torn in his decision-making. Buffy deserved only the best, and many of the flowers before him qualified as such, but he could only burn so large a hole in his cash supply before the fuel ran out. 

Time slipped by as Spike attempted to make a decision. He wanted to see Buffy in the first place, but needed time to choose just the right combination. Looking to the saleslady, he was compelled to ask her advice, but somehow had a doubt that she could help him. It wasn't difficult to imagine the dumbfounded look she would take on when he asked what to get the eighty-some year-old love of your life. 

When the bell rang above the glass door to _Sunnydale Flowers_, a dark-clothed form, his blonde hair slicked back, could be seen exiting with a dozen different flowers. Five roses were part of the mix. Red, white, soft orange, and pink made up the first three, and the last had been genetically mutated to take on a blue colour with yellow trim along the edges of each petal. There were three carnations: white, pink, and soft yellow along with a deep yellow tulip. Lastly, there were three of the exotic flowers Spike had eyed, the names to him unknown but their beauty almost able to match that of the Slayer. Heightened senses digging into the floral scents before him, Spike thought they would be the perfect surprise. 

¤+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+¤

Though he was ashamed of his half-hour delay, Spike worried even more about what the Slayer must be thinking. In the two months she had been hospitalized, Spike hadn't been late even _once_. Every day, within a minute after sundown, he would appear in Buffy's doorway with the smile she loved and craved equally so. Like a knight in shining black armour, the vampire would stride into his Slayer's room and plant a kiss on every pole of her face: forehead, each cheek, and lips. A flawless routine that hadn't been broken until tonight. 

Spike was calm as he strode into the hospital, making his way down the familiar hallways toward the elevator. When he pressed the red-glowing button that would lead him to the third floor, Spike's heart became light, knowing that within moments, he would be sitting beside Buffy in her hospital room. 

Everything that had been delighted and weightless within the vampire plummeted only seconds later. The elevator opened, and Spike stepped off as he always would. Looking down the corridor, however, a feeling of shock and panic washed over the immortal being. 

It appeared as if six, perhaps eight people were crowding around Buffy's door, some nurses standing on their toes in order to look in. Doctors in their pristine white jackets and patients in their telltale robes were looming around the doorway, and Spike didn't want to imagine why. 

In the deadened silence that seemed to wash over him, however, a single syllable, a familiar word sliced through him. It was Buffy, her elder voice something he was accustomed to now. But, he could hear her yelling, sobbing even, from twenty feet down the hall. Something had to be wrong. 

Every muscle in the vampire's lower body clenched as his hands cradled the bouquet of flowers. No rocket could match the burst of power Spike possessed as he thrust himself down the hallway, adrenaline being the main ingredient in his instantaneous acceleration. 

Sliding to a stop, not needing to stumble over a lost breath, Spike felt his voice immediately go into action. "Excuse me… pardon me… excuse me… thank you… pardon…" not even glancing at any of the people he moved, Spike craned his head over the last layer of people, almost crushed when Buffy's screams suddenly became clear. The word that had sliced into him was still being yelled; it was his name.  

"Spike! No… I don't _want_ them! No! Spike! Spike!" not able to hold out on his Slayer any longer, Spike wedged his arm between two doctors, shoving them almost violently. "Buffy!" he called out, and instantly Buffy's cries lowered in intensity. 

"Spike?" instead of being raging and panicked, Buffy sounded more inquisitive. The doctor Spike had shoved past was surely about to protest, but noticing that the panicking old woman had responded, the medic clamped his lips shut. "Is that you?" his Slayer inquired again as Spike made his way into the room. 

"Buffy…" Spike breathed gently as she was finally revealed to him. A doctor was on the far side of her bed, his hands migrating away from her body. He had obviously been clutching her by her shoulders and her head a moment before. In her pink suit, a nurse had turned to face Spike, her lips pursing upon sight of him. 

Blue eyes glancing about, Spike only assessed the scene for a moment before turning his attention back to Buffy, able to hear whispers starting up from outside the door. "Buffy… love… what are they doing to you?" his eyes were soft for the woman, but could easily turn stone cold if forced to glance at either the nurse or the doctor.

"Spike…" his name was all Buffy could manage at that point, her heart rate needing a moment to calm itself. Spike moved to the end of the bed in silence, pausing to set the flowers on a chair, wanting to give them to her when they were alone rather than in front of their 'audience'. 

"It's all right, love" Spike smiled as he gently grabbed one of Buffy's feet and immediately began to massage it. Able to feel the pulse speeding through the Slayer's system, a sense of pride filled him when it automatically slowed at his touch. Glancing at both the doctor and the nurse when Buffy didn't answer his question, his eyes turned to the stone he had anticipated. 

Recognizing the nurse as Doreen, a youthful yet unpleasant woman, Spike had to stop himself from snarling. Piping up when she saw the vampire's expression, it was obvious that Doreen was attempting to defend herself and the doctor, rather than give a simple explanation. "We weren't _doing_ anything to her. Miss Summers here simply will not take her medicine. She says she doesn't want the tranquilizers. I tried explaining that we could not leave the room until she took them, but she insisted on waiting until… _you_… got here" the way she spoke, it was obvious that she resented Spike. 

"Why does she have to have those… uh, tranquilizers?" Spike knew that Buffy had been taking the pills for a long time, but had never thought to ask why she took them. Every night, he came in, sat with Buffy for a while, and then watched as she fell asleep. Never had he thought to ask about taking the tranquilizers out of the mix. 

Doreen went slightly stiff, as if everything Spike said caused many new walls of defence to rise within her. "Miss Summers is notorious for nightmares, and she often wakes other patients with her screaming. The tranquilizers help to give her a dreamless sleep" sighing, Doreen didn't seem ready to relax any time soon. 

Spike's eyebrows furrowed as she mentioned the screaming, not having any memory of Buffy's cries. Then again, he had only recently begun staying overnight. For the first weeks of Buffy's hospitalization, Spike had thought that visiting hours only lasted until 10:00 pm or so. Only when he fell asleep by accident one night did Spike learn that he could stay with Buffy the entire evening.

Glancing toward the crowd of people still assembled outside the hospital door, Spike turned his attention back to the nurse and doctor. "How about leavin' them out tonight, doc?" Spike suggested, knowing that a personal form of treatment for Buffy's nightmares might be a little more effective than a modern medicine one. The doctor paused as the nurse seemed to take a deep breath of aggravation, but to Spike's liking, the medic seemed to have an independent opinion. 

Taking a deep breath, the doctor turned to fully face Spike, his clipboard held firmly at his side. "I don't want to say yes and go against my personal experience with Miss Summers, but I get the feeling that you won't take 'no' for an answer" the doctor paused when Doreen glanced harshly in his direction, having comprehended what her boss was suggesting. "But… I am going to leave complete power with Doreen here. If we hear so much as a short yell from Miss Summers, we're going to have to require her to take them". 

Doreen seemed to go a little smugger at the doctor's order, doubting that the elderly woman beside her could keep quiet the entire night. Buffy, who had been listening intently, hadn't even taken the time to so much as glance around the room. From the moment he walked to the end of her bed and took her feet in his massaging grip, Spike had rendered the Slayer helpless, making it impossible for her to tear her gaze from him. 

"Well, doc, I'd say you've got yourself a deal" Spike glanced at Buffy, having been able to feel her gaze transfixed upon him. The way her eyes hung from every corner of his form always sent shivers of relaxing pleasure through him, sometimes unable to believe that Buffy was actually _his_. 

Nodding, knowing that his place in the senior's room was not welcomed any longer, the doctor glanced at his nurse companion and hurried out of the room, shuffling past the vampire who still clutched his Slayer's feet. Spike thought he heard Doreen mumble something along the lines of "Shame on you for taking advantage of her… _shame_ on you", but didn't pay much attention.

Running into a barrage of people, Spike and Buffy both took a moment to notice the crowd that had piled around the room. Most of them didn't really understand what was going on, and had only been drawn to the doorway by the already existing crowd. 

White coats and shuffling pantyhose signified the exit of both doctors, and within an instant, Spike was at Buffy's side. His arms were wrapped in a passionate yet delicate manner around the woman as she simply clung to him. Buffy's heart rate decreased rapidly as every electric fibre in her body was sprung to life by the vampire's presence. 

Spike pulled slightly out of the embrace, but only enough so that his lips could reach the Slayer's. Velvet touched ruby silk as Spike's hands moved to encase Buffy's porcelain cheeks, always loving the feel of her soft skin against his rugged hands. People who found themselves unlucky enough to pass by at that instant nearly yelped as their eyes were forced upon a sight that, to them, was perverse, and equally repulsive. 

Buffy and Spike didn't give it a second thought, though. To them, their embrace was not something conjured by a young man's greed, or an old woman's need for some affection derived from a youthful source. For the vampire and his elderly Slayer, every touch, every whispered breath that cascaded against each other's ears was something that represented a love neither of them could have conceived.

Many people who had experienced true love knew that it had no physical boundaries. The affection and gentle caring that the vampire and warrior offered each other went beyond the fact that Buffy was well into her eighties, and Spike looked as if he hadn't been on earth for more than three decades. 

Spike sometimes caught himself wishing that he could make every staff member and patient in the hospital understand what was going on behind the seemingly scandalous appearance of his affection for Buffy. He wanted to throw things in frustration for every bit of venom they tossed his way, wanted to rip into some of them for the stress they caused for Buffy. Every night though, he was reminded why he and the Slayer went through what they did. The warm kisses and gentle outlook from the woman's eyes was enough to banish every bit of darkness that consumed the hospital she lived in. 

"Are you all right, love?" Spike found himself speaking, surprised that his vocal chords were even capable of shaping distinguishable syllables. Deciding that it would be difficult for her to speak with him clinging to her in the way that he was, Spike tore himself from their embrace, moving a chair intimately close to the bedside. 

Buffy spoke, but not before Spike had her hand in his, occasionally lifting the appendage to his lips so he could kiss it. Smoothing her hair out and adjusting the sheets on her bed, Buffy nodded in response. "Yes… I'm…" giving a soft sigh, the Slayer didn't want to sound as if she had no appreciation for Spike's being there. "I'm fine, even better now that you're here" her voice was gentle, and Spike didn't seem to take even an ounce of offence to her words as Buffy had predicted. 

Spike chuckled slightly as he glanced toward the doorway, following a momentary gaze of Buffy's. "You did quite a number on the doc and his nurse. Bet they didn't think a girl like yourself had so much strength in 'em". The vampire's face bore features of humour, though he would never forget the sound of Buffy's voice when she was screaming for him. 

Buffy was also chuckling, but his mention of the incident with her doctor brought up a question she had been pondering for quite some time now. Squeezing Spike's hand slightly, Buffy gave a sigh, glancing at her blanket. With her rather grim outlook, the answer to her question was almost something she didn't want to hear. What if he… oh God, please don't let it be that. 

"Spike…" she said his name quickly, and the vampire looked up, noticing the slightly concerned tone in her voice. "Hm?" the signal conjured from the back his throat told her that Spike was paying attention. Buffy took in another deep breath, needing some courage to get all her words out. Damned pessimism. 

"How come… Why _did_ I have to fight the doctors tonight?" realising that her question had been much more complicated than she had intended, Buffy continued. "I mean… usually you're here before they come to give me my medication… why… why were you late tonight?" There. The question was out on the table. Buffy trained her eyes on Spike in that instant, watching him for any faults. She would know before he even got the explanation out if he was lying or not. 

Not really taking notice of the Slayer's nervousness, Spike sat upright in the chair from his previously slouched position. Luckily, Buffy always allowed her curiosity to get the best of her. If not, he would have forgotten about the flowers. "Right, I almost forgot…" gently laying the Slayer's hand to rest, Spike jumped from his chair and quickly stepped to the seat where he had planted the flowers. "I'm sorry, love… for being so late" he smiled, turning to reveal the flowers to her. "It took quite some time to find just the right ones" Spike spun the package around in his hand as he spoke, checking for any damage. "And I only decided to get them on my way over, otherwise I would have done it during the day, bursting into flames or not bursting into flames". Spike smiled, and Buffy melted. 

Her heart had been ready to receive a stuttering Spike, his mind fumbling over some excuse for being late. Facing the beautiful flora leaning against an ebony-clad chest, Buffy decided to let her soul relax, relieved as her soul and lungs were finally allowed to breathe. "Oh… Spike, they're… I love them…" the smile on Buffy's face couldn't have been wider as her lover circled the bed again, setting them on her nightstand. 

Tears were now forming at the edges of Buffy's eyes, both from happiness and relief. Afraid that she might have to reveal her troubles to Spike, she attempted with all her might to push the crystal droplets back, but the floodgates seemed to be failing. Noticing through her waves of emotion that each blossom had its own small container of water at the stem, Buffy decided that they would be okay until the morning, and focused again on regaining her composure.   
Spike replaced himself in his chair, taking back the delicate hold on Buffy's hand. Looking into her blissful eyes though, he noticed that they were glassier than usual, perhaps a little too moist. Frowning slightly as a crystal bead finally took shape, Spike leaned in to wipe it away, touching the salted tear to his lips. "What's wrong, pet?" he couldn't help but ask, doubting that his simple bouquet had caused his rock-hard Slayer to cry. 

"Nothing…" Buffy looked up, and when her eyes met Spike's, she knew it would be impossible to lie to him. Taking another breath, she began playing idly with the seam on her blanket. "It's just… well… I'm so old, Spike…" before he could speak, Buffy nodded, knowing what he would have said. "I know… you're almost two hundred, but you don't _look_ it… I just thought that maybe… I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if…" Buffy trailed off, unable to finish her sentence, though it could hardly be called that. 

Buffy's fumbling over her sentences told Spike what she did not. In the time that he had been with the Slayer, it hadn't taken him long to be able to put the mathematics of her sentences together. Spike knew that Buffy had thought he was being unfaithful. The vampire wasn't insulted that she would question his loyalty, perhaps a little distraught, but not offended. 

Deciding that now was the time to put his plan into effect, the one that would starve Buffy of her nightmares, Spike stood up. "Just a minute, love…" as he spoke, the youthful demon kicked off either of his loosely worn black boots, and took hold of the Slayer a moment later. One arm wrapped beneath her knees, and the other around her back as Spike lifted the woman up, extracting a gasp of surprise from her in response.

Buffy's arms snaked around Spike's neck as he lifted her clear off the bed, holding her tightly against him. This girl was precious cargo, and he treated her as if she were made of porcelain. Wondering what Spike was doing, but too excited to ask, Buffy simply waited it out as Spike made sure that every wire hooked up to her was out of the way. 

Once it was safe, Spike simply slid into the bed where Buffy had been lying only a moment earlier, still holding the woman of his dreams. Buffy couldn't help but smile as she was pulled close to Spike. Having been shifted and rearranged, Buffy was now sitting hip-to-hip in her lover's lap. The fabric of Spike's jeans brushed against the Slayer's legs, as hers were now atop his still youthful limbs. Although he didn't have to, Buffy could feel Spike breathe, the upper half of her body rising and falling in time with the rhythm of his lungs. Finishing off the picturesque scene, Buffy's head rested in the crook of Spike's neck, his lips already circling her ear lobe. 

Overcome with waves of satisfaction, Buffy remembered that age didn't matter when it came to appreciating what Spike offered. "You see love…" his voice thrummed against her ears, resonating throughout her body. "If I had intended on leaving you, or anything of the sort as you… aged… I would have done it years ago…" smiling softly, he could almost feel Buffy quiver as his love for her was defined once again. "I love you, Buffy. Not a single girl in the world can make me change my mind about you. You're all I need, and you're all I've ever wanted…"

Flying high with Spike's words, Buffy found herself gently stroking the arms he had wrapped possessively around her, eyes having fluttered shut eons ago. Her cheek now rested against his shoulder, and she simply burrowed deeper into the vampire, knowing she could never be close enough to him. With a gentle moan, Buffy found herself speaking, "Mind if I try that sleep thing now?" her words were murmured into his neck, and Spike couldn't be blamed for the waves of adrenaline-soaked pleasure that washed over him. 

"Go right ahead, love… I'll be right here all night". Spike's fingers danced through her hair, smoothing the silken strands out, and swirling against the nape of her neck. His lips often found her forehead, landing also atop the sea of hair he was smoothing out. Spike's simple presence as a leather-clad hero was all Buffy needed to drive away the demons and monsters from her past; hideous, oozing creatures that took advantage of her dreamlike state would now be denied access to the Slayer.

Buffy wouldn't need those tranquilizers anymore. 

(I don't know if this chapter was as good as I dreamed it to be. I REALLY need your feedback here, tell me what you liked or what you didn't like. Also, I find myself growing attached to this fic, and though I already know how it's going to end, I need your opinions. Is there something you guys want to see happen? Eg. something else from Spike and Buffy's past, if so, what? Anything you want to see happen at the hospital? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, and what you might like to see in coming chapters. Thank you!)


	4. I'm working on it

"Come on, Slayer! How else was I supposed to ask?" Spike said, recovering the few steps she had taken away from him. Currently the vampire was staring at Buffy's back, unable to stop himself from admiring the way beams of moonlight caused her hair to shimmer in the most beautiful ways. 

Turning on one of her sharpened heels, Buffy stared at the vampire with a deadly gaze, though her mood wasn't quite so lethal. "I don't know… maybe in a way that _doesn't start with 'was it good' and end in 'for you, too?'" eyes narrowed, arms crossed, Buffy's face was otherwise blank. Internally, she was still floating on an emotional cloud that had been induced by the rather tender night she had spent with Spike, but the way he asked her about the experience had made her blood curdle. _

Gazing into the emerald daggers that were the eyes of his lover, Spike gave a sigh, straightening from his slightly slouched posture. Closing the gap between them with a daring step, Spike landed so that his face was only a few inches from Buffy's, able to sense the way her heart picked up speed in that small instant. The daggers had melted in her eyes, their green texture becoming no more threatening than a shamrock. 

"What did you feel two nights ago?" Spike paused momentarily, the fingers of his left hand rising to capture her well-defined cheek. "How do you feel about me now?" his eyebrows lifted optimistically with the second question, wishing Buffy's arms weren't still crossed, but thankful that her eyes hadn't fluttered shut with his touch. 

After four seconds of silence dragged on for an eternity, Buffy broke the bubble of soundlessness that surrounded them, her voice so soft that only Spike was capable of hearing her. "I can't say that I love you, Spike" she said cautiously, her heart clenching when Spike's vision fell away from her. "Not yet…" the Slayer's next words were a mere breath, but held enough power in them to return Spike's eyes to hers. 

In that moment, Buffy was ready to pour her heart out to the vampire. Spike's tender eyes and feather-light touch had broken down many more of her emotional barriers, and the answers to his questions were on the tip of Buffy's tongue. Unfortunately, the demons of Sunnydale didn't have a record of keeping a Slayer-friendly schedule. 

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They fought, side-by-side, vampire and Slayer, against a group of five demons who decided they might be able to dispose of the Chosen One on such a fateful eve. Speaking without words, motioning without gestures, Buffy and Spike were a perfect match in love _and in combat. It took only moments for them to dispose of the quintet, their dance against the creatures resembling a perfectly choreographed ballet, a work of art. _

Caught up in the action, their senses focused only on the demons before them, neither Spike nor Buffy took notice when the existing Scooby gang arrived. Walking toward the newly triumphant pair, Xander was the first to stop when he saw the almost affectionate glance Buffy gave Spike after his execution of the final demon. "Xander?" Willow questioned him, taking only a moment to realise his halt in motion. 

"Did you guys see that?" the carpenter whispered, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, matching the gaping look in his eyes. Dawn, Willow, and Anya were all puzzled, a simultaneous frown falling on each of their faces.  "Just watch," he said, motioning to the blonde pair with a lazy hand, keeping his voice low despite the shielding tombstones surrounding them. Each girl turned toward Xander's objective, not understanding what he was getting at. 

Still oblivious to the presence of her friends, Buffy turned back to her vampire lover, the barriers he had broken within her still lying as a crumpled heap in the catacombs of her body, feeling anything but urgent to be rebuilt. Brushing back a stray lock of hair, the Slayer gave her leather-clad hero a slight smile, forest green jewels reflecting the moon's silver stare in an almost playful manner. "Now, as I was saying…" she took a moment to think of what her next words would be, how she could explain her emotions to the vampire before her. 

"Oh, forget it…" Spike said, overcome with the simple and powerful need to just have his hands on the Slayer as soon as possible. The gaze her eyes offered him had been enough to tell Spike the volumes of complicated stories that Buffy just couldn't put into words. For now, he could handle that, as long as he could just be touching her right now. 

Taking the face he had grown to love so dearly in both palms, Spike was satisfied with the electric energy that quickly spread through his form. Pausing to admire her features for a brief moment, he could see that Buffy's eyes were asking him to do exactly what he had intended. Closing his mouth over hers, the vampire immediately began to work his magic, politely brushing his tongue against Buffy's lips as a request for entrance to her mouth. 

Granting access without a second thought to the motion, Buffy's jaw immediately went to work against Spike's, each orifice caught in a friendly competition for dominance. To the further surprise of her watching friends, the Slayer's arms quickly found their way around Spike's neck, her fingertips playing with the flesh and bleached hair found there. Somewhere in the meanwhile, a satisfied, throaty moan pushed its way past her sealed lips, followed by another and another as Spike's vocal chords also recalled the ability to make sound. 

Sighing in bliss as one of his hands migrated from her cheek to her waist, Buffy encouraged the vampire as he pulled the lower half of her body against his, not surprised when she was met by a protruding bulge. "Spike…" she panted, taking hold of the leather collar of his duster and pushing it away, revealing the black sleeve of his t-shirt. Her hands gripped his powerful shoulder before frantically roaming other regions, meeting his waist, cheek, back, and head during their unending travels. At a loss for words, she simply thrust her mouth against his again, soliciting a pleased grunt from the vampire. 

Buffy's knee had just made its way to Spike's hip, sensuously stroking the back of his leg with her foot, his hand gripping her thigh when a disgusted voice instantly spoiled the mood. "Jesus jumped up _Christ, Buffy! What the __Hell are you __doing?" Xander's voice rang clear and strong, echoing through the otherwise desolate graveyard. Anya, Willow, and Dawn were all equally shocked, but appeared unable to put their state into words. _

Every point of contact Buffy had made with the bleached vampire was instantly severed, her head spinning to meet the sound of her friend's voice. "Xander…" she said in utter disbelief, desperately wishing that this were a horrible dream she could just wake up from. Spike's attention had also snapped toward the carpenter, but instead of the fearful expression Buffy wore, his face was painted with utter rage. 

"Okay, the fact that you know my name tells me that you're not suffering from some form of amnesia, in which case I'll ask again: _what are you __doing?" he interrogated, eyes still wide and disbelieving. Willow nudged him harshly with her elbow "Xander…!" she berated him, seeing the obvious discomfort on her friend's face. "What?" he said, looking around the group. "Am I the only one who saw that?" his eyebrows were raised, wondering if his friends had suddenly gone blind. _

"Shove off, Harris" Spike's venomous words shot toward the vampire. The last thing he needed right now was for one of Buffy's Superfriends to start planting seeds of doubt in her mind. Especially when it looked like he was finally getting somewhere with her. 

When Xander was about to shoot back at Spike's remark, Willow instantly hushed him, glancing in a rather blank manner to her friend. "Buffy…?" was all she could manage to say, not knowing how to react after seeing her friend wrapped up in the arms of a killer. Inwardly, the redhead also prayed that Anya would maintain her tactful silence. 

"Willow, I…" she began, looking briefly to Spike who gave her a meaningful glance. Facing her friends and sister, she exchanged a glimpse with each of them, positive that her cheeks had turned bright red in the meantime. What was she supposed to say to them in this situation? 'I was just testing the endurance of Spike's tongue when things got a little heavy between us'… Yeah, the excuse to end all excuses right there. 

Luckily for the Slayer, no one really knew what to say at the moment. Xander was raging inside, but feared Willow as much as he did Buffy. Willow tried to appear easy-going, but behind her eyes, a thousand questions were whipping by. Dawn was simply doing the math in her head, filling in what gaps she could about the current situation. Anya was glancing around at everyone, taking no interest in any specific subject. 

Buffy's head lowered in resignation for a moment, no longer able to take the hard stares from her 'friends'. Clenching her hands tight, Spike was about to speak for his lover when she looked up again, the movement halting his lips in mid-motion. Sighing gently, the Slayer glanced first at Spike, then Xander, Willow, Dawn, and Anya, her hands trembling as she did so. 

"Look…" she started, not able to believe that the softer side of her was actually winning an internal battle for once. "I'm seeing Spike. Spike is seeing me. Spike and I are seeing each other…" Buffy marvelled at how strong her voice was being thrown at the Scooby gang. "Unless any of you have something earth-shattering to say about that, I'd rather not hear it. I'm a big girl. I can handle myself, and I'm sorry… but I'll date whoever I want whether you like it or not". 

Leaving her friends stunned, Buffy quickly turned around, looking at an equally shocked Spike. "Let's go…" she half-ordered, half-pleaded with him, taking hold of his hand in an attempt to snap him back to reality. Azure orbs suddenly became comprehensive as Spike glanced between Buffy and her friends, until finally following orders, racing toward his crypt with the love of his life. 

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Buffy's mini-rant to her friends had created a tension that lasted only temporarily amongst the Slayer Circle. Showing up to Scooby meetings with her hand in Spike's had been a bit awkward for the group members at first, not knowing what to make of it when she then proceeded to sit in the vampire's lap. Constant and public physical contact with the peroxide demon seemed to be helping the Slayer's case though, because the harsh, concerned glares from her friends were becoming fewer in number as time moved on. 

Everyone in the group had seemed to reach a silent truce with each other. The Scooby gang would work on accepting Spike both as a person, and as Buffy's boyfriend, and the Slayer would attempt to develop a sense of true, unquestioned love for her vampire companion. A love that, if he kept his promise, would last forever.

(Hey all! Wow, I know it's been a long time since my last update and I am very sorry! I just had a serious bout of mental un-creativity, and it affected my writing big time. In that case, I'd really appreciate any reviews you guys can give me, because I need to know if I'm slipping at all… hehe, anyway, I'm gonna go start working on another story, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!)


	5. Scooby Dooby Doo!

Tired, wondering how she made it through the days sometimes, Buffy suddenly wished that she had a supply of sleeping pills. Bedridden and still quite sick, the retired Slayer had nothing to do with her days but stare longingly out her window, lucky to at least have a room that faced a scene of nature rather than industry. A bluebird had just fluttered into the sunlit sky, leaving Buffy alone once again, when a familiar voice suddenly made itself known. 

"Guess who!" turning her head to face the doorway, Buffy was shocked with pleasure to see her family standing there. Dawn had been the one to speak, her elderly lips still possessing the ability to sound like an excited child. Willow was beside her in a wheelchair, Xander gripping the handles of her purple-framed mode of transportation from behind. 

"Dawn! Willow! Xander!" the smile on her lips couldn't have been wider. "What are you doing here?" it had been over two weeks since the last appearance of her family-like friends, and Buffy was beginning to think they might never return. Realising the ludicrous nature of her question, the Slayer smiled, laughing softly. "I mean… come in… please… come in!" she waved them inward with her hands. 

"Sorry we haven't been around in so long, Buff" Xander said as he wheeled Willow next to the bed. "Dr. Bardin was on a warpath again. Some people came down with the flu and he had the whole home on lockdown. This is the first we've been allowed out in ten days" although the man had of course grown old over the years, his spirit hadn't changed in the least. The definition in Xander's face had of course dropped away somewhat, leaving the odd sag here and there, but to Buffy, he was still the same boy she met so many years ago at Sunnydale High. 

Willow giggled softly from her place. "Yeah, so of course Xander had to organize a fake-escape party amongst the more daring patients. Armed with canes and walkers, they rushed the receptionist and demanded her key to the front door" Buffy and Dawn each had to laugh at the thought of a young woman being bombarded by elderly patients and their crude weapons. "From Dr. Bardin's point of view, I'm sure it wasn't very funny, but from where _I was sitting… Well, let's just say you could have made a few bucks by charging admission to the show" Willow's green eyes glinted with her smile. _

"It's good to see you" Buffy said after a short pause, looking to each senior, all of them still so close that she considered them family. On Buffy's right side, Xander was sitting next to Willow, dressed in a green plaid shirt that contrasted nicely with the ex-Wicca's butter-hued and quite flowery dress. "Same here, Buff…" the once-successful carpenter said with more seriousness, brushing his fingers lightly against his friend's hand. 

"Oo!" Dawn said, accidentally interrupting the intimate moment. "I forgot to tell you…" she held up a shiny blue gift bag, a smile spread over her face. "We come bearing gifts" upon stating the reason for her minor outburst, Dawn sat down in the chair to Buffy's left, no doubt wrinkling the white skirt she was wearing. 

"What's the occasion?" the Slayer asked, knowing it was far from Christmas or her next birthday. Then again, Dawn and company often did things without much of a need for prompting them to do so. 

"No occasion" Willow explained with a small shrug. "It's just… you've been in here for two months and the room is still practically bare" emphasizing her point, the woman looked around Buffy's hospital room. 

Xander sat quietly, allowing the girls to explain. "So, before I picked Xander and Willow up today, I grabbed a couple things from your house that I thought you might like." Dawn lifted the bag into full view again, making sure Buffy understood. "I didn't bring much this time, but more is on its way with the next visit". 

Buffy looked almost blissful at her sister's explanation, and Dawn wasted no time with more formalities. Reaching into her sack of goodies, the first item to be pulled out was a green picture frame. In it was a photo that Riley had taken of Buffy, Dawn, Xander, Willow, Anya, Joyce, Giles, and Tara during one special occasion when the entire group had been together. No other still life representations of the once massive Scooby gang existed; this image was one-of-a-kind, and Buffy had done her best to keep it in perfect condition over the years. 

Handing her sister the frame, Dawn wasn't surprised when Xander and Willow leaned in to glance at the photo, mesmerized by the happiness it symbolized, even though they had already seen it earlier on in the car. "Next…" Dawn started after the atmosphere had settled somewhat. Second to come out of the gift bag was a very old, very stuffed pig.

"Mr. Gordo the Second!" Buffy exclaimed, causing a passing patient to turn their head in concern, though not stopping to investigate. Tugging the pig into her arms, the Slayer was glad to feel the familiar plush material against her cheek. "I tried to bring the genuine article, but Mayella wouldn't hear of it…" Dawn sighed, having had another lesson on how difficult it was to negotiate with a five-year-old, granddaughter or not. Buffy simply smiled and laughed, thinking of her second-generation niece. "That's okay" the Slayer gave her pig another hug. "This guy is just as nice to have". 

Picking a lint bunny away from her violet shirt, Dawn looked up again, remembering something else lying in her bag. "I brought one more thing," she said, catching the Slayer's attention, as well as Willow and Xander's. On the drive with Dawn, they had seen only two objects in the bag, having heard no mention of a third. 

What Dawn pulled out was in fact another parcel, the deep green gift paper topped off by a small golden ribbon fused to one corner. Buffy glanced at her sister in confusion as she was handed the gift, its thin rectangular shape suggesting a book or another picture. "Dawn…?" she said, partially curious, somewhat nervous, and internally excited. 

"I'm not going to tell you what it is," her sister returned with a smile. "You'll just have to open it". 

"Oh no, we wouldn't want to spoil the utter suspense" Xander joked, glancing to the Slayer in hopes that she would tear into the green paper. 

Rolling her eyes with a slight smile, Dawn turned back to her sister, who had already opened one end of the package. Inside, as Buffy had expected, there appeared to be a picture frame. Glancing with intrigue to her sister, and then to Xander and Willow who gave her equally puzzled looks, the Slayer pulled out her third gift so that its velvet backing was facing her. When she turned it over, Buffy gasped. 

"Dawn…" she whispered, able to glance at her sister only momentarily before her gaze was pulled back to her present. The frame itself was made of wood, stained a dark chestnut. Within its borders, however, was a picture of Buffy and Spike, taken when she was perhaps thirty-one. Dressed in a dark-green shirt and simple jeans, she was sitting next to Spike on the Summers' ancient sofa, his arm wrapped tightly around her. Head resting on his shoulder, covered of course with his leather duster, vampire and Slayer each wore a sort of blissful smile, not too dim, but not overly cheery. A gold plate lined the frame's bottom, and on it the word '_Eternity' was engraved, with a stake crossing each 't', pointing inward to the heart that dotted the 'i'. _

"Do you like it?" questioned the younger sibling after a long silence had swept over the small group of senior citizens. When Buffy didn't respond, she glanced at Willow and Xander, realising that she had asked the wrong question. "Are you okay, Buffy?" she corrected herself, lightly touching her sister's arm. 

Emerald eyes flickered in Dawn's direction as Buffy finally heard her, slowly nodding. "Uh… Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine" she paused to study her sister's face. "I love it, Dawn. Really" the solemn look on her face was simply because of the memories it conjured, something that Dawn easily understood.  

Remembering yet another feature of the picture frame, Dawn sprung into action, but in a calm manner. "And look…" she said, taking hold of the frame for a moment. "The film shop just got in this new type of frame. You can store more than one picture in it, and change them just by pulling on this little handle here" she helped Buffy work the contraption, glad for her sister that it wasn't a difficult concept to grasp.

Easily memorizing how to change the photo in Dawn's wonderful gift to her, Buffy was now completely content. Such a state was not brought on by the fact that she wasn't stuck with the one photo, but instead because different pictures conjured different memories of her life and times with William the Bloody. Memories that only she and her lover shared, ones that deserved to be legendary instead of questionable fact. 

With a sigh, Buffy arranged her newly arrived items carefully. Mr. Gordo II was positioned directly beside her in the bed, a place that made him easily accessible. Her cherished group photo of the Scoobies went on the nightstand next to Xander, ready and waiting for the moments when her window lost its novelty. The almost magical present Dawn had bought, no doubt spending weeks finding just the right photos, was set up on the table to Buffy's right, leaning against the vase of beautiful flowers Spike had given her. None of her friends had noticed the blossoms yet. 

Looking back to Xander and Willow, deciding that Dawn would jump in if she felt at all left out, Buffy gave each of her true friends a smile. "So tell me, what's new and improved in the lives of Sunnydale's finest?" she asked, sincerely wanting to know. Without their usual tales of adventure that took place at the Sunnydale resting home, day-life at the hospital had become almost unbearable for the Slayer. No matter how absurd the story, she was glad to have the company of friends filling the void between day and night. 

Buffy listened intently to Xander's tales of the Surprise-Soup, the Iguana Lasagna, and his politically incorrect letter that had somehow made it into the old age home's weekly newsletter. Every morsel of Buffy's attention was directed to Willow as the long since retired Wicca depicted her adventures with Xander after lights out, and how she had been instrumental in redecorating the ladies' wing of her makeshift home. As always, the Slayer was thrilled to hear Dawn's latest news of her grandchildren, her words proud but not boisterous before three elders who hadn't had the most luck with relationships during their remarkably long lives. 

A contented wind of breath flowed through the Slayer's lips as her sister's final word was spoken. Giving each of her friends a sincere gaze, Buffy smiled while speaking. "It's so good to see you guys… I don't know what I'd do if I only had Miss 'I was emotionally wounded as a child' for company" involuntarily giving a roll of her eyes as she spoke, Buffy gave a light laugh at her description of Doreen. 

"Wow, Buff… They really treating you that bad?" Xander said with a cocked eyebrow, having been under the impression that nurses were tested on their bedside manner. 

"I guess not…" she said with resignation, taking a moment to revise her wonderful living quarters. "It's just that all Spike and I ever get from her is attitude… it's like she's permanently PMS-ing" Buffy took a moment to rant, knowing that her friends would understand. 

"Did you ever consider just telling them what's going on between you and Spike?" Willow offered, remembering other confessions that Buffy had made to her. 

"Well, yeah… but try to imagine what she'd be thinking…" changing her tone of voice as if she were in a scene, Buffy stared at the wall ahead of her. "… 'Um, excuse me… could you please try to act a little nicer to me? Spike isn't just some young kid in it for the money… He's actually a vampire and we've been together since the turn of the century'" sighing as the fake scenario ended, Buffy glanced at Willow, hoping she understood. 

"Fine" Willow said with a quirked smile. "You've made your point" she sighed, smile still pulling at the edges of her lips. 

"Speaking of night time" Xander piped up, exposing his still unusual train of thought. "It's almost five o'clock… dinner's in an hour, and tonight's mushy pizza" apologetically smiling at Buffy, he added. "We really should be going…"

"Don't worry, Xander. No need for the long faces. You guys'll be back soon enough, right?" when they all nodded, Buffy did as well. "Besides, Spike will be here soon anyway."

Giving each of her friends an appreciative and heartfelt hug good-bye, Buffy had to stop a small flood of tears from being exposed to natural air. It wasn't long before the Slayer was once again alone in her room, staring into the scenery of her comforting window. With a sigh, the aged woman attempted to force herself into sleep, hoping that it would become a useful and efficient way of passing the time before the arrival of her true love. 

(Hey everyone. I was writing this chapter and I just noticed the fact that I kept calling Willow an 'ex-Wicca', and other things of the sort. Seeing as though Wicca is a religion, I just wanted you guys to know that Willow is still a Wicca, she just doesn't practise magick anymore. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter!)


	6. Sunset's Jewels

_Eternity_… His mind wandered over the word, enjoying how each consonant and vowel wafted over his not-so-blackened heart with charismatic elegance. Although Buffy's very situation seemed to completely contradict the simple word, Spike was captivated by the frame and its encased photo. A slightly calloused finger was raised to the picture, tracing over a few of his lover's photographically youthful features. 

_God, Buffy…_ Spike thought to himself, wondering if the slumbering Slayer could hear his unspoken words. _I love you so much…_ he finished, pushing at tears that instantly threatened to overflow his unprepared eyelids. Focusing on Buffy's gift for another fleeting moment, the vampire came to a conclusion that its most impressive characteristic was his love's peacefully delighted smile, lips curved in a love-struck manner while her cheek rested upon his iron-clad shoulder. What more could a soulless vampire ask for in his lifelong lover? 

Returning the object of his attention to its home, Spike fell into a nearby chair, sinking into its welcoming cushion. He'd needed that. He'd needed to walk into the room while Buffy was sleeping, to notice the picture frame nestled harmlessly at her bedside. He'd needed the courage that could be gained from gazing into such an entrancing photo.

Hours seemed to wash away as Spike watched his lover sleep, azure orbs constantly flickering from one aged feature to another. Even now, with creased skin and a golden head of hair turned soft grey, Buffy was his picture of perfection. In his opinion, she was as beautiful as she'd been six decades ago, internal and external beauty heightened only heightened by their years spent together. 

So lost in his frequently-visited world, Spike almost didn't notice the movements created as Buffy's lips slowly pulled themselves into a smiling position, eyes fluttering open briefly. "Hey…" she said softly, hand moving to land gracefully upon the top of his. 

"Evening, sleeping beauty" the bloodsucker responded, lips curled slightly as he spoke. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep the night away," Spike added, his currently free left palm hovering upward to encase hers. Taking a gentle hold on her appendage, the vampire lowered his lips to Buffy's skin, unfolding a kiss on the first region of contact. 

"What, and miss the nightly visit from my knight in shining armour?" the senior citizen replied with a bit of a grin, eyes flickering with youthful exuberance. "Never" her smile didn't falter, emerald eyes locked with the vampire's. 

Spike simply chuckled, ocean blue eyes a dazzling spectacle for anyone lucky enough to witness such a sight. Clearing his throat, the vampire's demeanour changed with his vocal sound, face becoming slightly sombre, spectacular eyes evolving into a more serious tone. Although trace hints of a smile still lingered at the edges of his lips, it was obvious that something was weighing down his point of focus, the switch in mood instantly catching Buffy's attention. 

"Spike?" she inquired softly, giving his hand a light shake. "Are… you alright?" forehead slightly creased, the Slayer was already becoming somewhat worried. Only a handful of times had she seen his mood transform so quickly, and a fraction of such instances had been _good in nature. _

"You know…" he responded with random words, eyes glued to an apparently fascinating portion of Buffy's bed. "I could never have imagined that things'd turn out like this…" interest in the Slayer's bed faded instantly, and Spike's eyesight was returned to its connection with hers. "I never imaged that things would last this long between us, especially considering the demon-human factor" he paused, lips curling into a slight grin. "Didn't think you could stand to spend sixty-some-odd years with a man who… Well, with me" he finished with a slight chuckle, attempting to choose the best of many words currently dangling at the edge of his tongue. 

"God, who am I kidding?" Spike's head lolled back, touching his spine before sliding forward again. "We both know that I could sit here all night and it still wouldn't be long enough for me to completely define the words 'I love you'. In all honesty, I think that picture frame pretty much sums things up in a neat little package… Must've been Bit's idea" the vampire allowed thoughts to spill from his lips as they surfaced, figuring that Buffy would decipher them on her own. 

The Slayer took on her 'I want to say something' appearance, but Spike ruled over her, hand sliding into his duster pocket as he spoke. "But the point, Buffy… Is that I have just one question for you" halting at the single syllable with a drawn-out sigh, Spike's hand was removed from his jacket's leather compartment, creamy hand clasping something of a dark-coloured hue. Opening his palm as it came to rest before a somewhat confused and anxious senior citizen, Spike exposed the image of a small, velvet-covered box. "Will you marry me?" the words were spoken almost nervously as the parcel was opened, exposing the image of a diamond ring.

Lungs were caught in mid-motion, hazel-tinted orbs of emerald frozen upon the midnight blue case as Buffy realised her lover's implication, mind reeling in an attempt to properly discharge her response. "Spike… I… How can I…? Yes… God, of _course_ the answer is yes!" she replied, choosing to whisper out of fear that she might disturb the entire hospital with her exclamations of joy. 

Absolute thrill erupted over Spike's features, a slight hint of relief coating the short, ecstatic laugh he tossed out. The ring he bore was simple in design, yet incredibly meaningful to any knowledgeable onlooker. Two diamonds encased an emerald and a sapphire, each colour representing the hue of Buffy and Spike's eyes, all four jewels nestled with each other as if they'd been born that way. 

With every ounce of care his powerful hands could muster, the vampire removed his prize from its casing, movements having been practised countless times in his dreams. Seconds passed, and following their execution a petite ring of gold found itself lovingly encasing the aged digit of a retired Slayer. Both Spike and Buffy took a moment to simply admire the ring, their awe directed more toward the promise it symbolized rather than their materialistic proof of devotion to one another. 

"Spike… it's…" Buffy's voice came in the form of a whisper again, further comments becoming drowned in her trachea. Her eyelids had been attempting to dehydrate aggressive tears, but in that moment, every dam and barricade broke. Crystal saltine droplets began flowing down the Slayer's cheeks, an entire network of emotions being flooded by things both understood, and alien to her. "I love you" she quaked, chest rising and falling with a quick breath. 

"Buffy," the single, prized word was all the bleached vampire could manage to say, positive that his words would become muddled should he attempt anything more. Replacing speech with actions, Spike took Buffy's face in his pair of trembling hands, crimson lips instantly searching for the tender embrace of hers. Eyes were closed, tears continued to fall, velvet touched satin, and the world fell away. 

Buffy could sense only her vampire lover, one of his eternally muscled arms wrapped with possessive care around her waist, the other appendage unable to decide whether to cement itself upon her cheek, to take up residence on her neck, or become buried in her silver mane of hair. His lips were as confident as they'd ever been though, consuming her with cautious urgency as his tongue and teeth tenderly cared for her mouth's most sensitive regions. Every fraction of her body had been recorded and mapped out by the vampire decades ago, yet every time he touched her it was as if Spike was exploring uncharted territory, his hands and eyes desperate to savour every sensation. 

Spike's heart ached, a thousand emotions saturating his skin as he devoured the single human that was able to give his unlife any sort of meaning. Without Buffy, the vampire had wondered long ago, who was he? Who _would he have been if she'd never swept his feet from beneath him? Without the love and affection that he both gave and received in the name of this woman, he was hardly more than a neutered vampire, a warrior lost to the sands of time and Initiative technology. _

In his eyes, Buffy was virtually the only thing that existed to Spike. She was the sunshine he would forever be denied, she encouraged the love he was not technically supposed to be capable of, she was his life, his death, the single religion that an unholy creature such as himself would ever be allowed to follow. She was everything to him. 

_And I'm going to marry her…_ although the thought was simple in its creation, some unknown magnitude forced Spike to abruptly end the passionate lock of his lips with Buffy's. Hands cupping either of her cheeks, the vampire pulled back far enough to gaze into her still moist eyes, a dazed expression attempting to hide her soul from him. _I'm going to marry this woman… She is going to be my wife…_ the incredibly sentimental thought drifted through his mind, and Spike managed a slight smile despite his still gaping jaw. "Buffy, I…" the vampire choked on his words, the curve in his lips becoming marred by the fact that tears were beginning to form at his eyes as well. "I…" he quaked again, attempting but unable to force the words past his swelling heart. 

"I know…" Buffy's hand was already stroking the back of Spike's head, the other closed delicately around his prominent cheek. "I know you do," she smiled, also pushing the expression through falling tears. "Come on," the Slayer whispered, shifting herself against the edge of her bed in a manner that welcomed Spike to join her. 

Straightening, hands reluctantly losing their hold on his beloved, the vampire tore his duster off, boots falling from his feet during the same moment. Black leather fluttered through air that reeked of medicine, the jacket's manmade descent meeting a conclusion once Buffy's entire form lay beneath the ebon depths. Spike was crawling into bed seconds later, attempting to give his aged lover the most room on such a petite piece of furniture. 

"Mm, Cologne du Spike," the Slayer whispered with a soft smile, adjusting her position as Spike electronically lowered the upper half of her bed. 

"Always a favourite with the ladies," he smirked, though his eyes stated the undying fact that Buffy was the _only lady that mattered to him. _

"Hm, well, they can have all they want. _I get the real thing," Buffy grinned, cuddling closer to her vampire companion as his arm closed protectively around her waist. _

Spike was laying on his right side, left arm encircling the frail body of his fiancée as its counterpart acted as a makeshift pillow. "Never wanted it any other way, pet," he murmured against her left arm, his forehead resting peacefully against the pillar of tissue. 

"Love you so much," Spike found himself whispering after what seemed a few moments of silence. Finally the words had surfaced, stopped before by his unresponsive vocal chords. 

Buffy had been on the verge of unconsciousness, but she smiled when Spike's voice crawled into her ears. Eyes closed, she gave a simple nod, the hand that was resting against his possessive arm squeezing the deltoid muscle briefly. "I know," she answered, falling into a world of equally blissful dreams only seconds later. 


	7. Nobody Touches My Girl

"So what took you so long?"

"Hm?" Spike said lazily, his drifting mind not expecting that any words would be aimed in his direction. 

"What took you so long?" Xander repeated his question, sitting beside Spike on a handy couch outside Buffy's room. Quickly noting that the vampire was still clueless to the meaning of his question, he explained. "To pop the question, I mean. It seemed to me like you guys were ready for this…" he paused, contemplating a timeframe. "Well, _decades_ ago," he laughed good-heartedly. "Never actually thought that _you_ of all people would be willing to wait this long."

Instead of retorting with some witty remark, Spike became thoughtful in response, letting out a long, contemplative sigh and sitting back in his seat. "Well," he said, tossing a fragmented glance in Xander's direction. "I suppose it just never seemed like the thing to do. Me bein' a vampire and all, the whole 'holy matrimony' bit might not've gone over too well, you know?" he half chuckled, staring off into space as if remembering long-ago memories with his ladylove. "And I suppose it just never seemed like we needed it… What we had was good enough for us… Didn't really matter if it was down on paper" he smiled with a shrug.

Behind Spike's eyes though was a shadow of unspoken truth; it wasn't that he and the Slayer didn't want to get married at all. The fact of the matter was that almost fifty years ago they had performed what Spike considered to be the vampire equivalent; blood exchange. That alone had been good enough for them, but only days ago Spike had realised that it _was_ important for them to go through with the fancy human version; maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have some sort of material proof that yes, a Slayer could love a vampire with everything she had. And vice versa. 

"Well that's a good enough excuse, I guess" Xander said, hiding the smile that pressed upon his cheeks. 

"_Excuse_?" Spike immediately flamed. "What _exactly_ do you mean by _excuse_, Harris?" he growled. 

"Relax, relax" the retired carpenter chuckled good-heartedly, brown eyes glittering. "I was just playing around, Spike. I mean, the fact that we're practically gonna be family within the next hour or so doesn't stop me from yanking on your chain with every chance I get," he smiled. 

"Christ…" the blonde shook his head. "You're lucky Buffy likes you so much, Harris… Or you know that I'd--"

"Yeah, yeah. Rip out my jugular, use it for Christmas tree decorations and such… Feast on my innards and all that jazz" Xander rolled his eyes somewhat jokingly. "You know, I hate to break it to you but that _really_ gets old after sixty-some-odd years… It stopped being scary when they shoved that chip up your brain."

"Oi! It's my wedding day, man… Try to go a little easy on the old ego, would you?" 

"Fine, fine" Xander held up his hands in surrender. "I'll give you the day off then. But you'd better bet that tomorrow--"

"I hear you, Harris. Chip-head, Big-Bad-wanna-be, Captain Peroxide… You know, those names really get old after six decades, sorry to say" Spike replied, mocking the carpenter's disregard for his threats. 

It was then that the now grey-haired man fell silent, chocolate eyes studying Spike for a moment. "You've been really good to her, you know. I never really thought you guys would last this long, to be honest. I figured you'd move on after a couple of years or something, find yourself some other young girl. I hated having to imagine what it would be like the day you broke Buffy's heart and just ran out on her because she was getting a little too saggy around the eye region or something" when the vampire looked as if he was going to jump in at that second, Xander held up a pleading hand to just wait one more moment. "I'm just saying, thanks for proving me wrong, Spike. Thanks for showing Buffy that there was hope for her in the world after all, that being the Slayer didn't mean she had to live her life in loneliness" he smiled, holding out his hand. "Congratulations."

Spike reciprocated the action, something between shock and fear and happiness spilled across his chiselled features. "Uh, you're welcome…" he laughed nervously, a voice in his head screaming out the fact that if _Xander_ was offering his blessings to them, he'd better have something just as courageous to say in return. "And thanks, Xander… I mean, it… It means a lot" he quirked a half smile, showing the carpenter that this was as far as he'd push his dignity. 

"Yeah, well…" the carpenter slipped his hand away, the magical spell of his words gone now, making room for awkwardness to seep from his pores. "You know, it had to be said" he shrugged, looking around, head swivelling toward the door to Buffy's room. "Man, what's taking them so long?" he said, glancing at his watch. They'd been in there for nearly an hour now, which _would_ be reasonable, except for the fact that Willow and the Bit's daughter should have been able to whip everything into shape within minutes by use of some friendly magic. 

"Heh, as if we'll ever know," Spike chuckled, shaking his head. "Women."

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"I can't believe it," Dawn squeaked. "My sister is getting married! My siiister is getting maaarried!" she laughed, jumping from one foot to the other as best she could for an elderly woman. 

"God, you're such a teenager" Buffy smiled, shaking her head. 

"Ah! Careful not to move your head too much, Buffy. I can make the bobby pins float, but I can't stop them from stabbing you," Willow said, concentrating all of her energy on making the tiny metallic objects pin her best friend's hair up in a most magnificent manner. 

"So you want this one?" Brooke, Dawn's daughter asked her aunt, forcing the Slayer's attention to be redirected once again. Her index finger was currently hovering over one of the many gowns to be found in any bridal magazine. 

"Yeah," Buffy said softly, an equally gentle smile unfolding upon her features. "That's the one… are you sure you can do it?" 

"Aunt Buffy," Brooke chuckled. "If I can cook up dinner on my way home from work, I'm pretty sure that I can handle a measly bride's gown. Have a little more faith in your family members, will you?" 

The Slayer nodded sheepishly, the smile not gone from her features. "Do you think he'll like it?"

All three women who were in the room with Buffy stopped what they were doing, their six eyes pinned upon the Slayer as if she'd just asked _the_ most absurd question in history. 

"What?" she asked, not understanding what the sudden silence was for. 

"Buffy," Dawn said slowly. "What makes you think Spike will anything but _love_ your dress?" she laughed. "I mean… for one thing it's _beautiful_, and for another thing, it's _Spike_ we're talking about here."

"Okay, well… I was just asking," she laughed. "You know, casual butterflies-in-the-stomach questions."

"It's all right," Brooke laughed. "Just as long as you weren't _seriously_ wondering about it," she said, setting the magazine down in front of her and beginning to concentrate. 

"Yeah," Willow broke in just before the younger woman had fully begun her conjuring spell. "And besides, I bet Spike would think you were beautiful even if you were in one of those burlap sacks and blood larva or whatever it was that Anya used to talk about," she chuckled. 

Buffy smiled, trying not to make a noise that would break her niece's concentration. The funny thing was, though, Willow didn't know just how right she really was. 

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Moonlight bathed the nearly deserted forest in a silver glow, giving every leaf and pine needle a strangely natural radioactive appearance. Droplets of crystal dew clung to each slice of vegetation that was to be found, giving the forest floor a somewhat slick texture to it. The air was crisp and refreshingly cool, making the slightly moistened atmosphere incredibly pleasant. Breathing it in was intoxicating enough to send shivers down one's spine, filling their lungs with an almost magical fluid. 

Birds were nestled away in their homemade habitats. Squirrels slept pleasantly in some burrowed out part of a tree. Deer could be found pressed into the mouth of a cave, or behind a thick cover of underbrush. Needless to say, all life had fallen out of consciousness, tucked away in their animalistic beds until the sun decided to show its face once again. All life, that is, except for a pair of creatures whose trespassing on wilderness territory was made less severe only by the fact that an animal lived deep within them as well, its existence setting them apart from the rest of their species.

Buffy poured herself against the trunk of a tree for just a short moment's rest. Despite the pleasant autumn air that affectionately hugged her on all sides, her breathing had become slightly ragged, her muscles screaming for mercy. Beads of sweat seeped from her every pore, creating a silver sheen as the moonlight trickled across her visage. Strands of blonde hair were trapped against her now adhesively moistened and rosy cheeks, making it look as if she'd been running through the forest for an entire day, not just a mere hour. 

From far off in the distance, the Slayer's superhuman sense of hearing picked up on the sound of a twig snapping. Gulping back one last full breath of air, she rushed off in the opposite direction, distantly pondering on the fact that Sunnydale's forest appeared to be a lot larger than she imagined it in these particular circumstances. 

Spike silently cursed himself, shooting a lethal glare at the offending limb that had cracked beneath the pressure of his booted foot. He didn't know how far away Buffy was, or if her slightly enhanced hearing would be able to pick up on the minute sound, but in this sort of game, every movement, every sound, every _breath_ could make or break one's stealthyness.  

_Don't worry about it, Spike… _he thought with a self-satisfied leer. _It's not like she can resist you fore--_…_ What the **Hell**? _A frown instantly marred the bleached blonde's marble-sculpted features, every fibre in his body hardening with enraged fear. Stepping forward, he tested the air a second time just to be sure that his animalistic sinuses were not fooling him, and again he was assaulted by that same horribly offensive scent. 

Alarms were set off in his mind by the hundreds. Ones telling him to run after Buffy, others screaming about the fact that she was in danger, and still others saying that he had to do _something_ to get her attention. And yet, there was one corner of his mind that refused to cooperate. It remained silent, except for the repeated statement that he had to be confused, or just plain _wrong_. What his nose was telling him couldn't _possibly_ be true; at least, not on this particular night. 

Halloween… For decades, perhaps even _centuries_ it had been stipulated as the one evening of the year when demons didn't make it a priority to do, well, _anything_. So of course, by pure common sense, it was the night on which Buffy and Spike had scheduled to hold their game in which one hunted the other through the Sunnydale forest. It was supposed to be just the two of them, with no interloping vampires or humans to throw off the other's senses. 

So of course, when Spike picked up on the presence of not one, but what he estimated to be _twelve_ vampires in the nearby vicinity, the blood in his veins instantly froze. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't be worried. If Buffy could take on a Hell god and kick her sorry little ass, then a small pack of vamps would be no problem. 

But by now there was no doubt that she'd be off her game. Her muscles would be turning to sludge minute by minute, her heart rate wishing that it could slow for just a quarter of an hour. Not only that, but she would be _expecting_ the presence of a vampire, and in that case might not realise the danger until they were on her. 

Translation? Spike had to haul ass. 

_Now_.

"**_Buffy_**!" He roared out, lungs shoving air through his trachea with every ounce of power and pressure they possessed. Only milliseconds slipped by before he was in motion, ducking, weaving, slicing his way through the forest like an ebony arrow tipped with lightning. His eyes were miles ahead of his feet, navigating a comparably obstacle-free path to his lover, meaning that it was only up to his appendages to follow. Nature attempted to throw things in his way; trees, bushes, vines and stones, but they were no match for the determination of a vampire in love. He may as well have been made out of molten lava, because in this state of mind, _nothing_ was going to stop him. 

_No, no, no… Oh, God please Buffy just hold on. I'll be there soon. I'm coming. Be smart… run away… No, wait; they're probably expecting that. Oh, **God** can't I run any faster than this? _Spike conjured the array of thoughts as he continued to scramble through the woods, hands reaching out to brush leaves and branches away from his face. 

Buffy's scent was getting stronger with every stride he took, telling the vampire that he was at least moving faster than she was. But as her scent strengthened, so did that of the dozen vampires just ahead of him, and by now he could tell that they were positioned randomly, ready to catch the Slayer from a number of directions and distances. Spike could think of nothing but finding her. His instincts locked on that powerful Slayer aroma, and the rest of his body drove on autopilot. 

All he could do was hope it was fast enough. 

After only two minutes of jogging away from what she guessed to be Spike's general position, Buffy decided it was time to give her body another rest. Her legs and lungs were screaming at her, complaining of fatigue, and she couldn't really argue with that. Not to mention the fact that she _did_ want to be found at some point, something that was kind of impossible if she kept running away. 

Walking at an only moderately brisk pace, the Slayer chose that point in time to re-do her hair. Running through the forest, she couldn't count the number of strands that had escaped the hold of her hair elastic, and it was becoming somewhat of a nuisance now. Pulling her hair through its final loop, Buffy snapped to attention when a rather disturbing sound ruffled her sense of hearing. It was the low, sensual sound of a vampire's growl. 

Of course, the sound itself wasn't the thing that disturbed her. She was, after all, the Slayer. Not to mention the fact that her current boyfriend happened to be a 'creature of the night'. No, the disturbing thing was the fact that she'd picked the sound up from two different directions at once. Last time she checked, Spike wasn't the type to go teleporting himself. 

Buffy's heart began racing at the realisation that she was probably being hunted by a small group of vampires. In the back of her mind she was whining something to the effect of _Dammit! Can't I ever get **one** night away from my destiny?_ Quips and complaints aside though, she did have to admit that she was a little frightened. She wasn't sure when the last time was that she'd taken on more than two or three vampires by herself, and she could already feel her muscles beginning to ache from the demands she'd put on them. 

So, she did what any Buffy Summers would do in a dangerous situation. Her number one tactic. Tease the vampires. 

"Gee…" she started, hoping her voice didn't give away the fact that she was still trying to catch her breath. Not that it would make any difference to a vampire's visceral senses anyway. "Look at me. All helpless and alone in this big forest. I sure hope no one tries to _attack_ me," she mock pouted, hands clutching her chest in an overly dramatic manner. 

Despite her attempt to flush out her stalkers with crude jokes, no answer came. Which was odd, because even the smartest of the idiot vampires usually fell for that one, for some reason unable to resist an opportunity for idle banter. She frowned then, looking for any signs of movement amidst the trees.

"Hey, vampires!" she said into the trees, turning in a slow circle as she did. "The whole thing where you keep hiding even though I _know_ you're there is kind of lame. That's like covering your eyes and saying 'if I can't see you, you can't see me!'" Buffy sighed, hands sitting firmly on her hips. "Besides, you're ruining my night. So just come on out and get staked already."

"Be careful what you wish for, girl," a young man's voice said from behind a tree. He stepped out at that queue, revealing a fairly tall, youthful male with sandy blonde hair, dressed in athletic wear. "Things might not turn out the way you plan for them to. You know, as far as the us-getting-staked part goes."

Buffy laughed dryly at that, crossing her arms. "Um, I'm not sure if you realised this, but… hello," she raised her hand "I'm the Slayer. And you are?" she said, head cocking in a self-assured manner, grinning at the vamp. 

"Oh, I know who you are," the man nodded, walking a few languid paces to his right. "Being the longest-living Slayer in history, you're somewhat of a legend. Any vampire that's been around for more than five years has heard of you."

"So I guess you're one of the stupid ones who somehow managed to survive that long, huh? Self-preservation obviously isn't high on your list of priorities though, what with you _looking_ for me and all."

"Oh no, staying undead is actually quite important to me," he paused then, making several pointed glances around the forest. "Which is exactly why I brought so many friends along," he said slowly, eyes locking with the Slayer's as he spoke. 

Buffy listened and watched as one, two… eight, nine… _twelve_ vampires stepped into view, game faces loaded and cocked. "Wow, gotta say… you guys are organized… it's been a long time since I was ambushed," she said calmly, her confidence refusing to waver despite the fear tickling at the base of her spine. 

"Glad you're impressed, Slayer," the leader looked around at his gang members, making pointed eye contact with each of them. "Be sure to let us know what it feels like to have your neck ripped apart, too," he growled. 

A split second later, the vampires converged on her, barely giving a moment's notice before fists began to fly, and fangs glinted in the moonlight. Buffy didn't know whether it was the knuckles in her jaw or the foot in her knee that hit first, but either way she was forced to the ground hard, mouth aching where it had just been clobbered. This wasn't good. 

Knowing that she was done for if she stayed on the ground for more than a second, the Slayer forced every ounce of energy she had into propelling her body upward. She kicked her legs up, knocking a few of the bloodsuckers back as she jumped to her feet. Without even taking the time to aim properly, Buffy then threw her fists in random directions, getting lucky when she came into contact with cold, dead flesh a few times. 

But when two were dispersed, another three jumped out at her. Two sets of strong arms wrapped around each of her elbows, one of the vampires who had a hold on her even bothering to sock her a good one in the face. Buffy's head whipped back with the force of the blow, a few stars twinkling before her eyes. 

Lucky for her though, Buffy had been put in this same hold at least a hundred times over hear years as a Slayer, and was more than experienced when it came to breaking it. A monkey wrench hammered into her plans though when a third vampire sailed through the air at her, foot extended in a kick that crashed into her chest, knocking nearly every ounce of air from the Slayer's lungs. 

Buffy doubled over with the force of the blow, her vision turning black and blue as she gasped desperately for air. In that moment of weakness, she was shoved harshly to the ground, a mixture of dirt and leaves gushing into her gaping mouth as she hit the forest floor. Four vampire lackeys instantly tackled her, rather strong men pinning her legs down, which combined with the force of the two at her arms kept her thoroughly glued down. 

"Well, well, well, Slayer…" insano vamp's voice slid into her ears, the words slow, steady, and confident. "It would appear as if all the smart comments and quips in the world can't actually save you from a few well-prepared vampires," he drawled, grinning wickedly at the still gasping blonde girl. "I find this quite exciting, actually. I am about to turn _the_ Slayer. Buffy Summers. Defeater of The Master, conqueror of giant snake beasts and unstoppable man-demon hybrids, the very annihilator of the feared Glorificus. God, I don't think any vampire has ever had it better."

By now, Buffy's breathing had returned to normal. The only downside was that she was now able to comprehend a totally different kind of pain. _This is it, _a small voice in the back of her head whispered. _You're too weak to break their hold on you… and even if you do, there are five more vamps just waiting for you to try running away. Oh, God… God, Spike… where are you?_ She cried internally, any additional thoughts stopping dead as a steel-toed boot drove into her kidneys. 

"Oh, God!" she managed to choke out, hands clenching into fists. 

The lead vampire laughed at that. "Stupid girl. I hardly doubt He's the one you should be calling out to now."

Buffy rolled her eyes at that. "Geez, could you be any more clichéd?" she swallowed back a cough, blinking as she did so. "I can't tell you how many vampires have used that line on me… could you be any _less_ original?" 

A brief moment of insult flickered in the vampire's eyes, but he quickly shook it away. "Say whatever you wish, Slayer. By the end of tonight, you'll still be turned, and I will have won the battle of the century," he smirked, arms folded across his chest.

"Pssh," Buffy snarked, coughing a bit. "Don't be too modest or anything there, you might hurt yourself," she said sarcastically, still refusing to allow her concrete wall of strength to shatter. 

"Again, talk all you want, Slayer. _I_ am the one who has defeated you, not vice versa. Speaking of which," he paused. It was then that he finally shifted into game face, mildly handsome features melting and remoulding until he wore the mask of a killer. "Let's get this over with, hm?" 

His knee had only just touched the ground, and only one stream of his cool breath had trickled across Buffy's exposed neck. Only one drop of salty fluid had escaped from Buffy's tear ducts. The Slayer's death had only _just _appeared to be inevitable when that comforting, powerful, and baritone voice broke through the suspended silence. 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Vamp-in-charge spun at the voice's appearance, meeting the presence of an average-height, fairly lean man. His lack of heartbeat signified that he, too, was a creature of the night. "And why the fuck not?" he said with a boastful smile, eyebrow cocked. 

"'Cause if you even _try_ to hurt her, I guarantee that your head will be lopped from your shoulders before you even feel my hands on your cheeks," Spike growled through clenched teeth. For a moment he allowed the other vampire to lock gazes with him, cerulean blue orbs burning with absolute and undiluted rage, the look itself almost hot enough to incinerate the other one on the spot. His gaze softened as he looked to Buffy though, heart flooding with relief upon seeing that she was okay. 

Despite the obvious danger that still surrounded her, the Slayer couldn't help it when every muscle in her body relaxed at the sight of her knight in shining armour. Spike had made it after all; he was here to save her. Everything was going to be okay. God, she loved him. 

"Wait… you _do_ know who this is, right?" the vampire, Buffy had decided to call him Chad by now, said, jerking his thumb in the Slayer's direction. 

Spike nodded slowly, gaze still locked with that of his ladylove. "I do very well at that, mate," he paused, taking a few threatening steps toward Chad. "And what I also know is that no one. And I _mean_ **_no one_**… touches my girl. So, prepare to meet an unpleasant and dusty ending."

Spike didn't even give Chad time to react. He lunged forward, grabbed the sandy-blonde man by the ears, and gave a violent twist, muscles exerting so much pressure that he was able to keep his promise to the younger vampire. William the Bloody ripped Chad the Idiot's head clear off his shoulders. That, combined with the still murderous glint in his eyes, was enough to send the other vampires scattering, forgetting all about the prized bounty they had intended to collect. 

When the flurry of movement was over, Spike found himself looking down at a shocked and slightly trembling girl. "Buffy, luv," were the only two words he rushed out before diving to her side. Strong arms scooped the Slayer up, fingers lovingly rubbing off a few streaks of mud she'd collected during her brief struggle. "You okay?" he said gently, gazing into those beautiful emerald depths he always loved getting lost in. 

For a moment Buffy was still unaware of what had just occurred. But as she realised whose eyes she was staring up into, a wave of relief crashed through her. "Spike," she mumbled into her lover's shoulder as she caught him up in a fierce hug. "You made it… You… saved me. God, I was so scared. There were so many of them."

"I know love…" Spike whimpered, squeezing his ladylove as if she might disappear out of his grasp. "But you're alive… You're okay," he sighed, eyes shut tight.

"I love you."

"I love you, Buffy," the peroxide fiend responded without hesitation. Their embrace loosened a bit, and Spike took that moment to snarl. "Bloody vampires going against the age-old tradition of laying about on Halloween."

Buffy couldn't help laughing at that, causing her companion to gain a slightly hurt look. 

"What?" he said self-consciously. 

"You," Buffy grinned. When he gave her an utterly puzzled look, she just rolled her eyes at his cluelessness. "Well, correct me if I'm wrong… But I seem to remember a certain English, bleached blonde vampire causing a bit of mayhem not too many years ago on Halloween…"

"Oi! It was the costume shop fella who stirred up all the trouble. My gang and I just revelled in the results…" Spike defended himself. "And I must say love, the gown you had on that night was really quite fetching".

"Did you really think so?" Buffy asked with a quirked head, surprised that Spike remembered the dress. 

He nodded. "I may have wanted to kill you more than anything in the world, but I know a beautiful woman when I see one," Spike said with a grin, kissing his lover's shoulder affectionately. Both of them had already forgotten about the evening's ordeal.

Buffy pulled away slightly. "Sounds like someone's trying to bribe me into getting some tonight," she said, eyeing him mischievously. 

"Don't need to bribe you, love" Spike countered, eyes challenging hers without fear. 

"Oh really?" Buffy's eyebrows rose sceptically. Deciding she could still go for another hundred-yard run or so, she moved to spring up, feet instantly making an attempt to propel her away from the vampire and back into the forest.

Spike saw it coming though, and he hopped up as well, spinning to face the blonde beauty and tackling her to the ground before she covered five feet. Buffy attempted to roll him off her, but he held her steady. "C'mon love, if you keep up with the runnin' bit, you won't have any energy left by the end of the night". From where they were pinning her arms down, his thumbs began stroking the veins on her wrists, a calm smile accompanying the tender act. "We'd have come out here for nothin' then."

"Yeah, but… If we went home, _some_ good would come of it," Buffy offered, shrugging as best she could beneath her lover's steel grip. 

He cocked an eyebrow at her, not understanding what could be better than shagging like a pair of rabbits beneath a full moon. 

She rolled her eyes at him, blowing away a piece of leaf-infested hair that hung over her eyes. "I could take a shower… get all un-gucky and stuff."

It took the act of the Slayer mentioning her dishevelled appearance for him to actually notice. Sitting back a bit so as to get a full view of her, Spike was finally able to see the sweat and mud smeared across her face, the tangled mess of vegetation in her hair, and the various dirt and grass stains covering her clothing.

She was stunning.

"Don't sweat it, Buffy… It's all part and parcel of the whole chasing-you-through-the-forest gig… And frankly, I think you look absolutely luscious," he stated simply, giving her a ravenous grin. 

Buffy squirmed a bit in her greasy clothing, wrinkling her nose at what she must look like by now. "You… really don't mind?" she asked, eyeing the blonde vampire like he belonged in a mental institution. 

"Not a bit," he agreed.

Deciding that the time for idle chitchat was over, he leaned in to give Buffy a gentle but searing kiss. His lips just hovered over hers, but it was enough to send electric shocks rolling through each of their bodies. 

"You really are wonderful, Spike," Buffy whispered against him, eyes having fluttered shut long ago. 

"My goddess," was all he said in reply, shuddering at how her hands felt running down his neck.

"Make love to me?" she pleaded softly, needing only to look into his eyes, and remember that he found her beautiful even now, to know that Spike was without a doubt the love of her life. 

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"Done."

"And done," Brooke echoed Willow's words, each of the women moving back to get a good look at the bride-to be. 

All three of them fell silent, stunned by how beautiful their eldest relative had become. Her grey-white locks were parted down the middle and pulled back, woven into tightly packed curls held together by Willow's bobby pins. She wore no makeup, but the sun shone upon her features in a most flattering manner, highlighting her shimmering eyes and pinkish cheeks. 

Her gown was simple but exquisitely crafted, made out of a sheer material. The neckline was low-cut, exposing much of her upper chest. It was long-sleeved, partially because Buffy was self-conscious of her now aged skin, and also because she was simply too chilly to wear anything with more revealing shoulders. Around her legs there was not a hideous amount of fabric, but just enough that it created bridal gown effect.  

"How do I look?" Buffy asked, hoping the look in her family's eyes wasn't any form of disgust. 

"You're absolutely beautiful, Buffy," Dawn replied with a soft smile, one tiny tear running down her cheek.

"I'd say you're definitely ready for action," Willow agreed, having always had faith that the elderly Slayer could look good even at her ripe old age. 

"Is the priest minister guy here yet?" the Slayer inquired, already feeling anxious to just get the event over with.

"I don't think so… Xander said he'd let us know when--"

"Hey guys," Xander interrupted them, perfectly on queue. "He's here… Mr. Varshin… whenever you're ready."

"Kay, Xand. Just give us a minute, okay? We'll call you in," Willow smiled, waving him out. 

"No problem, captain," he grinned, refusing to look at Buffy out of respect for Spike. After all, the guy had been with her for over half a century… he deserved to be the first one to see her all dressed up and looking beautiful. 

Brooke and Willow each turned to Buffy as Xander closed the door behind him. "All right," Brooke said, cracking a few of her knuckles. "Time to get you out of that bed."

Clasping each other's hands, Willow and Brooke began concentrating upon Buffy's form, focusing all of their energy into lifting her off the bed. It took only a few seconds for the spell to begin working, and before either of them knew it, the matriarch of all Slayers was standing at the foot of her hospital bed, bridal gown cascading from her waist and dangling just above her slightly exposed toes. "Dawn," Willow ordered gently, glancing over at the younger girl only briefly. 

Knowing exactly what was being asked of her, Dawn grabbed the cane sitting against the wall beside her and carried it to Buffy as fast as her elderly limbs would allow. "Here you go Buffy," she said, offering up one of the few tools to remain simplified in the now high-tech medical world. As her older sister took the balancing stick, bite size Summers leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'm so happy for you," she smiled. "We're good to go, Will."

Brooke and the still slightly red-haired old woman breathed a sigh of relief at that, each of their taxed minds now finally able to take a break. "I'll go get the Bible thumper," Willow offered, giving her head a shake in an attempt to clear some of the straggling fuzziness.

Spike and Xander's heads whipped to the side as they heard Buffy's door open, though they instantly relaxed when they saw who was poking out. "Hey guys," Willow grinned. "Where's the reverend man?"

"Over yonder," Xander motioned to a middle-aged man on the other side of the corridor. "I think he sensed some unholy vibes from the Spike man here."

"Well then he's certainly not gonna be smilin' when he finds out who the groom is," Captain Peroxide chuckled. 

Willow ignored both the older men. She saw the quiver in Spike's clasped hands though, and flashed a supportive smile in his direction even though she knew there was no reason for him to be nervous. "Um, Mister Varshin?" her intended target looked up, and she plastered on a smile. "We're ready for you now."


End file.
